The Little Bird Comes Home
by Reno Keehl
Summary: Jason Todd x Bruce Wayne. Winter in Gotham has never been so sad for Jason Todd...but when a series of unlikely events makes a turn for the better, will Jason finally be reunited with Bruce Wayne face to face, without cape or cowl?
1. Christmas in Gotham

_ "Have you ever loved someone so much that you would go to Hell and back for them?"_

It was winter when Jason strolled through downtown Gotham. The streets were lined with snow, and the air rung of Christmas carols and the laughter and bickering of children from the ice rink across the street. At one point, Jason may have rejoiced in the cheers that the holiday season brought with it, but as it was, he left solitary footprints in the snow as he lingered on, a nameless, faceless boy. The only place his wished to return to, he could not muster the courage to seek out, and while he had forgiven Bruce for his death, he still resented him for the Joker's life and his pride would not allow him chase after him like a desperate, forlorn lover.

Crossing the street to Gotham Central Park, Jason took a seat on an empty bench across from the ice rink, and as he allowed his mind to wander from its usual contemplations of vengeance, he watched the careless children in awe. There was a time when he was much like any of them, laughing, jesting, and carrying on as a kid should. Those were the days he spent at the side of the Batman, Bruce Wayne, as his ward and partner, his companion and livelihood. He chided himself for such idle, childish nostalgia, though in reality, Jason Todd was still merely that: a child. Perhaps he had grown in skill and knowledge, and his mind had been tainted by the dark adult obsession of revenge, and there was now blood on his hands, but his heart remained unchanged, though hidden. Jason Todd was still a child, a bitter, misguided child, but a child nonetheless.

He of course would never recognize this about himself, seeing himself as grown up, his own man. While he prided himself for no longer being in the shadow of Batman, of Nightwing, he felt lost in the world of the living being apart from the only source of light the cruel world had given him. This light, he would never admit, was his mantle of Robin. It was not the prestige or the glory that appealed to him. No, rather it was what the mantle implied. There was no Robin without Batman, and there was no Jason Todd without Bruce Wayne. Yes, being Robin ensured that he would be at Bruce's side. It ensured that he was his priority, his pride, but mostly, it ensured that he has not forgotten him, that he still loves him.

The last time Jason saw him, he had meditated Bruce's death and had without fail, set the necessary gears into motion in order to obtain the ends. However, upon seeing his Dark Knight, as brave, bold, and enigmatic as he had always been, swoop down from the roof top like the shadow of night itself, Jason could not press the detonator. Regardless of how bitter he remain, he was smitten, is smitten still, with the Batman. He did not want that one secret glimpse to be his last, could not bear the thought of losing him once more, of causing his own lost. His resentment gave way to the love that had transcended death, and he was helpless against Bruce's effortless charm. It was always that air about him, that silent, triumphant air that proclaims justice has been done, that Jason was infatuated with. He stopped to admire the man he had yearned to see since the moment of his resurrection. It was only once he made off without him that he recalled the reason for his ire, and at once, his admiration gave way to his scorn. It was the same proclamation of justice that left his murderer among the living. It was the same heroic, righteous ways that left him little more than a vengeful zombie.

Shaking the thought from mind, Jason cussed quietly to himself for entertaining such inane revelries, and in a fluster, reached with a quivering hand into the pocket of his black leather jacket for a pack of cigarettes. With numb, clumsy fingers, he pulled one out and shielding his lighter against the wind, lit it and inhaled a long, shuddering drag. Taking another puff, he held his breath a moment as he took in the winter scenery around him. The man at the next bench was reading his newspaper and drinking his coffee, minding his own business and seeming quite pleased with his mundane morning routine. Down the lane, a woman and her two year old daughter was walking their Yorkshire terrier, the small, fluffy dog yapping cheerfully along as its masters chattered indistinctly about a ballet recital. Another shapely woman jogs pass him sporting a flamboyant workout suit, countering the Christmas carols with her earphones. Jason exhaled, the smoke leaving his dry lips intermixing with his cold breath and dispersing into the grey December sky like a cloud. These people were living such simple lives, doing such boring, trivial things, but he could not help but envy each and every one of them. He could not put words to his jealousy, but he knew that it had everything to do with that man he came back to see, that man that he could not bring himself to find, that man that he begrudged. He would have given anything to be like them, carrying on with their lives uninterrupted, doing the boring, daily things, and living by routine. All of these simple things were what he missed most from life because all of these simple things involved _him_.

Exhaling a sigh before taking another drag, Jason turned his attention upon the strings of colourful lights that spanned the wrought iron lampposts and a small smile twitched his lips as he exhaled through his nose. Even now, he could not help but reminisce of those old rose coloured days he spent with Bruce, recalling the silly Christmas tradition of watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ with Dick when he came to visit and how happy and warm the air was in the Wayne manor, surrounded by those he loved. But mostly, Jason reminisced about how genuinely excited Bruce always seemed when he received his presents, no matter how silly or useless they were. He always seemed to cherish them, and that had always be Jason's favourite thing about Christmas.

But now, surrounded by all these lights, colours, and happy people, Jason found it all heartbreaking, and because it was easier to channel his sadness into anger, something he had in common with Bruce, he came to resent the holiday and everything it stood for. There would be no movie night for him this year, no Dick, no Alfred. There would be no warm fireside storytelling, no Christmas dinner. But most of all, there will be no Bruce. That smile that Bruce Wayne seemed to set aside for just the occasion, the one that he only showed Jason, would not be his this year, and that was all he ever wanted for Christmas, one moment of Bruce's approval for the year.


	2. Past Life And Pretense

"Does your father know you smoke, young man?" The accented voice of an older man called out to Jason, breaking his chain of thought. With a haughty glare, he turned his attention upon the older man, only to be dumbfounded to find the owner of the voice. With widened, green eyes, Jason stared at the man as though he had seen a ghost, and jaw going slack, his cigarette fell out of his mouth. He did not know what to say, his mind a jumbled mass of thoughts and emotions. His heart was palpitating madly, Jason felt sick and breathless.

"Are you alright, dear boy? Come now, I was only asking, no need to be so frighten, although my father would have given me quite the lashing for it," the elderly man continued to muse before quirking a brow at Jason, who he watched turn pallid and faint with cold sweat.

The elderly gentleman in question was none other than the Wayne butler, Alfred Pennyworth, no mistake. Jason was not expecting to run into him, here of all places, and the fact that the butler did not seem to recognize him further bewildered the boy. However, being unrecognized was not his concern. Rather, it was what the presence of the old butler implied. Bruce Wayne must not be too far behind. Then, struck with a sudden idea, Jason composed himself, and tilting his head back, looked down his straight nose at Alfred, assuming a haughty air. "What's it to you, old man?" he retorted, hoping to keep the butler's attention long enough to draw out his master. When Alfred was unable to respond, exasperated by the youth's blatant disregard for manners, Jason knew he had won, and following through with his plan, he continued. "It's not like I have an old man anyhow. He's dead, long dead, _worm food,_" he spat before reaching to produce another cigarette from the box and lighting it. Taking a long drag on the cigarette, he watched Alfred with amusement evident in his eyes as the elderly man cast his analytical gaze upon him, and he recognized the look behind the butler's eyes: he was trying to identify him.

"Do I know you from somewhere, young man?" Alfred asked, leaning forth to catch a better glimpse of Jason's face, though he turned away before he could confirm his identity. Humming thoughtfully to himself, Alfred straightened and gave the boy a sidelong glance. He knew who the boy resembled, but it was impossible. Jason Peter Todd has been dead for almost two years. He was there at the boy's burial, along with Bruce and Barbara. The grief that overshadowed his master and the entire Wayne household was undeniably real; he could never forget the day a death in the family casted its dark shadow over the Wayne family once more. Alfred Pennyworth's career as the Wayne's butler has been one defined with loss, always a death in the family, always the life of someone dear. He had seen the makings of the Batman, and he watched as the caped crusader's dwindling sanity took a downward spiral after Jason's death. He had watched Bruce go through the motions of grief, and he knew the agony it caused his master. He saw Bruce's own sanity become his worst enemy after Jason's death. It was all very real: his life, his death, the misery and grief it caused the Batman and the subsequent memorial Bruce upheld in the Batcave. This young man before him only resembled Jason, but was not- could not, be him.

Jason considered telling Alfred who he was, his mischief taking the better of him as he contemplated how hilarious the elderly man's reaction to such a statement would be, though, he ultimately decided against it. Coming to this decision was troubling to Jason because if meant he had taken Alfred's feelings into mind. Such a declaration would have surely astounded the old man, but then, once he recovered, it would be received as an ill-humoured joke. Surely, this would only cause the butler to indignantly march off before he could see Bruce, or if he truly had not been in Alfred's company, inquire about him. Bruce would have recognized him though, if only he got lucky enough to acquire his attention for a moment. Then, it struck him; Bruce Wayne himself is not exactly a low profile figure, being one of Gotham's most influential faces. All he had to do was inquire of the butler's master. How he made the connection of their relationship could be explained with something as simple as a news headliner or the various broadcasts of Wayne Foundation charity event on television. There were various occasions where Alfred had been caught in a picture by his master's side at social and charity events. It was an excuse, and Jason was going to exploit it for all its worth if it means being one step closer to finding Bruce Wayne without showing up at his door like a lost puppy.

Clearing his throat, Jason turned his head to spit before looking back up at Alfred and smiling finely. "Nah, I don't think so. But I sure as hell know you. You're Bruce Wayne's butler, right? What's the name…Alfred…Pen…Penny..Pennyworth! Alfred Pennyworth! That's it!" Grinning accomplishedly as though the recollection of the butler's name was some great feat, Jason was in reality proud that he had delivered the line so flawlessly and believably. Before allowing Alfred a chance to confirm, Jason went on, composure giving way to his eagerness to be reunited with Bruce. "Speaking of which, where is Mr. Wayne?"

Dumbfounded a moment by the boy's accusation, Alfred blinked blankly at the youth before chuckling softly and nodding to confirm his identity as claimed. "My, aren't you the perceptive boy?" Alfred noted before with a soft sigh announced, "I am afraid Master Bruce did not feel up to Christmas shopping today…'Tis a shame, really. The weather is quite lovely out. Unfortunately, not all of us are blessed with the same sense of holiday spirit…" Disclosing this with an air of pity and disappointment, the elderly butler gave a shake of his head before his shoulders flagged. Then, glancing analytically down at Jason, Alfred's black eyes narrowed a moment as though trying to decipher the boy's motive for asking such a question before quirking a brow, he asked, "did you happen to have business with Master Bruce?"

Taken aback as his question unexpectedly turned on him, Jason took a long drag on his cigarette to consider his response. For a moment, his troubles were etched in his forehead and he frowned at the thought of having to explain himself to another. While it might have been easier to just drive up to the mansion and request to see Bruce that way, Jason did not care to avoid a challenge. He wanted to save face. His pride was one of the few things the boy had intact since his resurrection. Annoyance giving way to yearning, his green eyes softened and fixing his gaze upon Alfred once more, Jason exhaled a shuddering breath before replying in a despondent sigh. "I've always wanted to meet him…When I saw you, I thought maybe I had gotten lucky…" Exhaling another defeated sigh, Jason flicked the butt of his cigarette aside before flagging his shoulders in a purposefully dejected manner and continuing, "I guess I'll never get to meet him…Darn…" Allowing his words to linger effectively, Jason anticipated Alfred to interject with a kind offer, which he did.

"Well…if you are so adamant about meeting Master Bruce…perhaps I could help…" Alfred suggested with a pensive air before nodding and adding with the makings of a smile, "it is the holiday season, after all."

_ I have gone to hell and back…and I am doing it because of you…Because he took me away from you before my time…_


	3. Through The Ghost's Eyes

_So close, I can taste it…_

The road back to Wayne Manor was a trip down memory lane for Jason Todd, and as he looked out of the window of the '56 Rolls Royce, one of Bruce's favourites, he could recall every moment he had ever spent in the city alongside Bruce, regretting the fleeting, intangible nature of memories. Nothing has changed since he had last been there, save for the natural alterations that came with seasons. Driving through the streets of Gotham in that very car, Jason recalled times in the past when he had rode along with Bruce and Dick to one of his many charity events. The memory made him warm as he casually took analytical sniffs of the leather seat, secretly trying to pick up a hint of Bruce's lingering cologne on the upholstery.

Exhaling a deep, shuddering sigh, he sank against the leather seats of the Rolls Royce. Savouring the familiar warm bergamot and the musky notes of citrus, Jason absentmindedly caught Alfred's attention, who gave him a peculiar glance in the rearview mirror. Smiling sheepishly up at the butler, he shrugged nonchalantly before looking back out the window. In his mind, he was already rehearsing things to say and do once he reached Wayne Manor. However, with every line he thought of, there were a thousand scenarios with which it could be countered and gradually, he grew uncertain of what he was doing.

Anxiously, he fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, pulling idly at the leather as he chewed on his lip in thought. He had expected to be angrier than this, but he felt as though a giddy schoolboy anticipating his first date with the girl of his dreams. The notion was bizarre enough, but to consider Bruce Wayne, no less, the Batman, your dream girl, was a whole new brand of weird. It would have troubled him that anger and vengeance was the last things presently occupying his thought had he not already been so preoccupied with the rehearsal of clever one-liners and a fool-proof way of seducing Bruce Wayne.

The fact that he had been dead, was still dead, to him did not enter his mind quite yet, and it was not until the Rolls Royce finally passed through the wrought iron gates of Wayne Manor that it crossed his mind at all. Bruce would know, Jason thought, he was an ace detective after all. The matter of immortality and resurrection of the dead surely was not foreign to him. There was Ra's al Ghul, after all. Bruce knew too well of the old bastard's back story, and Jason's resurrection was partially accredited to his daughter, Talia, Bruce's _former_ lover.

Talia al Ghul was something different entirely. It was a strange affair between her and Jason. She had brought him back to his potential, even invested in further training for him in order for him to realize his vengeful goals. However, that was not really the case, as Jason knew. She was buying time, and he was desperate. Why did he really get close to her? _Because Bruce did it. _Was it a competition to Jason? No. It was never about being like Bruce or even surpassing him, not when it came to Talia al Ghul. No, it was about getting closer to Bruce, about getting even with Bruce. To be with someone Bruce had made love with was next to being with Bruce himself; Jason settled with the twisted idea.

__As the car pulled up to the mansion, all Jason's idle thoughts gave way to his shuddering nerves, and when Alfred went to get the door for him, his hands were trembling. The butler noticed this, and he thought it quite peculiar, though because he was a man to always keep his wits about him, he said nothing, merely putting his guard up, should he come to find the boy a nuisance. Escorting his young guest into the drawing room, Alfred grew somewhat wary about the youth at his side, the unwarranted sense of familiarity returning to plague his curiosity as they walked. It would seem as though he had in fact walked these floors with the boy before, but how? He was a stranger, some youth he had found on the streets.

Offering Jason a seat on the elaborate, antique sofa, Alfred announced that he would fetch refreshments and would shortly return with Master Wayne. Nodding inanely, Jason finally found the mind to ask if it was acceptable that he should smoke while in the manor, to which Alfred replied, "you are our guest, after all." Then, instructing him to wait a moment, he went to retrieve a crystal ashtray, which was kept for just the occasion, since the master of the house did not indulge in such unhealthy luxuries himself. Alone with the ashtray, Jason exhaled a shuddering breath as he sank against the leather upholstery.

The air inside the drawing room was warm, and for a moment, Jason was comfortable enough to fall asleep, reveling in the luxury of all things he held dear, knowing that he now shared the same air as Bruce Wayne, at least for the moment. Fishing his cigarettes from his pocket, he drew one from the pack and proceeded to light it. Taking a deep inhale, he exhaled with a shuddering sigh. He took a moment to study his surroundings, reacquainting himself with it, regardless of how he suspected he should not dwell there too long. With another drag of his cigarette, he felt like a ghost in this place he had once called home. While his façade with Alfred was initially amusing, the fact that he did fall for it pained him somehow, and another secret, unaccounted fear started to settle. _What if Bruce did not recognize me either? _

This question soon began to plague him, and after several nervous inhales, he put out the half-finished cigarette only to light a new one. His hands quaked and his heart was beating like a war drum as he reached for the lighter. After so many sleepless nights spent planning, so many months spent agonizing, he remained quite unprepared for the occasion. His own thoughts were mixed with his emotions, and his plans of action opposed his sense of pride. Jason Todd was unraveling in that drawing room as he waited for Alfred to return with Bruce, each minute passing as dreadfully slow as the next.

He was on his fourth cigarette when the door to the draw room creaked open. He ignored it for a moment, and paused to light his latest cigarette before even averting his attention to the door. As he suspected, it was merely Alfred who was presently crossing the threshold, baring a tea tray and nothing more. Exhaling a puff of smoke, Jason sunk in his seat, disappointment strategically etched in his features. Noting the boy's troubled expression, Alfred assured, "Master Bruce will be here shortly. It took a bit of coaxing, as to be expected, but I was successful. I will leave you to wait for him here. What was it that you said your name was?"

Taking a moment to consider his answer, Jason hummed before shrugging his shoulders. "I never told you my name. But if you must call me something, Todd will do," he replied, giving the butler a sure fire hint as he was finally growing weary of his own game.

Vaguely taken aback by such a response, Alfred replied with a certain hesitance, "…very well, Master Todd, "before turning to make his exit once more. Pleased to be left alone again, Jason took another drag on his cigarette before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He felt sick, a thousand million conflicting emotions and thoughts all nagging at him at once. He did not know whether to give in to his desire or appease his thirst for revenge. Groaning, he opened his eyes as the door started to open once more, this time with a certain reluctance behind its slow swing.

Turning his head he opened his mouth to address Alfred, though when his gaze met not the lethargic, dark eyes of the butler, but caught a passing glimpse of the the dashing blue eyes of the man he had sought, Jason was caught frozen in space and time. His heart in his ears was the only thing he could hear as Bruce carelessly entered the room and introduce himself. It took him several moments before he even looked at Jason, though when their eyes finally met, Bruce's public face faltered, and his smile dispersed as quickly as the breath of smoke Jason sudden exhaled.

Taking several more steps to close the distance between them, the surprise on Bruce's handsome face remained as he approached Jason, disbelief obvious in his bewildered blue eyes. His gaze were cold a second, as though the boy had been some cruel imposter, though as their distance closed and the boy dropped his burning cigarette into the ashtray and stood to receive him, his eyes softened. "Jason…"

While he had watched Bruce cross the room, Jason did not recall him ever moving, nor did he remember moving himself. Now standing before the man he had dreamt of, longed for, and cursed, he was overwhelmed. His head was spinning as the whirl of reality hit him, and suddenly, his doe eyed gaze narrowed and his arrogant features contorted convulsively, as was his pride as he futilely attempted to hold back tears. "Bruce…" He managed to utter before he was overwhelmed by tremulous sobs and a sorrow he had thought he had long outgrown.


	4. Unspoken Madness

_It can't be helped. I've come so far. I won't lose you again!_

Much taken aback by the boy's tears, Bruce made a gesture to comfort him, though briskly, Jason pushed him away. In a moment, the air in the room grew thick with tension as he steadied his green, teary-eyed gaze upon the older man. Now, it was no longer sadness that lingered there, but rather, an intense anger, backed by a scorn so harsh, it could only be harbored by one who has been betrayed. The erratic, vacillating emotions displayed by the boy troubled Bruce though, and while he did not feel threatened by Jason's glare, he was confused and concerned. The boy's presence was enough to send his mind reeling. The months he spent dwelling in his own grief, which quickly escalated to madness, made his presence before him seem all the more unbelievable. The pain of losing Jason was so real, the insanity that his loss soon ensued still evident in his daily work; there was no way Jason was still alive and all that pain was for naught. He had been there when they buried him! In a moment, Bruce's mind was as clouded as Jason's, and a million questions began to surface. How did he survive? Where has he been? What has he been doing? Mostly, he wondered, who was he with?

These questions hardly had time to solidify in Bruce's mind before Jason reached into the inner pocket of his jacket to withdraw a pistol, which he tossed him. Dumbfounded by the weapon, Bruce narrowed his eyes at the boy when he made his demand. "Why don't you just shoot me, Bruce? Right here," Jason provoked, gesturing to his chest. "It's clear it doesn't make a difference to you whether I'm dead or alive! Why is it that you're perfectly okay with letting that coldblooded psycho go free? Why is he's still alive when I had to die?" As he demanded answers, his voice cracked, emotion blatantly tinting his every word as his hands trembled.

Finding the boy's request absurd, Bruce tossed aside the gun. Now, Jason could see the other side of the man he loved; the Batman has woken. Quickly closing the distance between them, Bruce drew Jason in by the collar of his hoodie, and for a moment, his eyes were cruel and foreign to him as he glared into the boy's fearful green eyes. The boy struggled for a moment, clearly startled by his mentor's reaction, since he had expected him to not lose his cool. Jason has never seen Bruce like this before, not to him. He fixed his gaze upon him with the same cold accusation with which he used to address only the lowest of scum in Gotham. The look was unfamiliar, and the notion of being regarded as such by Bruce momentarily caused him to flail. So close, Bruce saw the panic behind his gaze, and he could only imagine the terror that must have flashed through those pretty green eyes as the time on the clock started to tick away his life. It was undeniable. It was no villainous imposter, and Bruce knew so. While the questions of how remains, he was not presently concerned with it. It was a matter of why. His grasp loosened until he finally let go altogether, and taking one step back, he examined the quivering frame of the boy that stood before him.

"You don't understand. You'll never understand, Jason. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, but-"

"But what? Avenging me wasn't worth your time? Or no, don't say it, don't you dare say it! Your morals wouldn't allow it!" Angry tears began to stream down his damp face once more as he struggled to steady his quivering voice. In an attempt to keep from losing his voice to the violent sobs that threaten to escape his throat, he gritted his teeth together, before inhaling a sharp breath and starting in a quiet, sincere tone. "I couldn't remember anything except for your name, and how I died; my fractured bones reminded me. But do you know what my first, lucid memory was, Bruce? That headline! Joker returned to Arkham! Do you know how I felt reading those four words, Bruce? It was worse than dying. It was dying and knowing that the person you love most in the world won't do a damn thing about it!"

"That's not true, Jason!" Bruce fervently denied, knowing the reason for his own actions, or lack thereof.

"Oh yeah? Then tell me this, Bruce! Is it not true that I am your greatest failure? That I was always second best? You would have gone out of your way to avenge Dick if he were the one to die, I'm sure!"

"No!" Bruce yelled, his voice so firm and authoritative that Jason actually fell awestruck. Studying the surprise in Jason's eyes for a moment, his brows furrowed as he repeated, "no… you have it all wrong, Jason. Had it been Dick who died, everything would have still been the same. The truth of the matter is that there isn't a single day since your death that I do not think about finding him and killing him with my own bare hands. But, two wrongs will not make a right, and revenge would not bring you back. Do you think I have forgotten you because he is still alive? You're wrong, Jason. His life is a constant reminder of your loss. How could I ever forget…?" Continuing in a low voice, he confessed, "There were several occasions on which I had nearly killed him, and I won't lie to you- if I had thought I could have you back, I would have killed him a thousand times over."

"Bullshit!" Jason spitefully and animatedly retorted. "I meant nothing to you! You were quick to replace me!"

Frustrated by the youth's stubborn conviction, Bruce silently fumed for a moment before abruptly reaching to grasp him by the wrist. Regardless of Jason's protest and struggle, his hold did not give, and roughly, he dragged him out of the room. As they entered the corridor leading to Bruce's study, Jason's furious protest gave way to nostalgia, and he calmed to savour the familiar hall way, marveling at everything he had once took for granted. The walls, the ceiling, even the floor he walked were all pieces of sacred memory, and should he never return again, he wanted to make certain that this time he took the time to take them all in. Entering Bruce's study, his eyes widened as he found nothing has changed, and when the older man dragged him over to the bookshelf, he knew where they were going. Making their descent into the Bat cave, Jason felt ill, his reality and dreams confused, as he had never imagined ever walking those steps again, save for in his bravest fantasies. As they reached the bottom, Jason's wits finally returned to him, he started to thrash and curse again, though this time, Bruce willing released him. Cursing under his breath, he glared at Bruce before turning his attention to what was before them.

His rebellious green eyes shone with surprise as he gazed up at the glass case before them. Seeing his reflection in the glass, his expression vacillated between anger and profound sadness as he recalled the days he had donned the costume on the other side. Overwhelmed and awestruck but this wordless declaration of his love, the anger in Jason's eyes slowly dissipated as he listened to the solemn silence between them, which he knew conveyed much more than anything either of them could have said. That case, polished and well-guarded, that uniform, preserved and true to form, the sad way that he gazes upon it even now with Jason presently before him, those were sentiments that Bruce Wayne had never disclosed to anyone else, he was sure of it. In a moment, his heart ached so sharply, that it rendered him off his feet. Collapsing to his knees, Jason keeled forth to bury his face in his palms, ashamed and frustrated at their ill twist of fate. Bruce quietly dropped to one knee beside Jason, and wordlessly, he wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders. Jason, enticed by the warmth that he has long yearned for, slowly entrusted himself to his hold, gradually settling his weight against Bruce. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a sharp whisper, "he took me away from you, Bruce," still unable to let go of his engraved loathing. Closing his eyes, he lowered his hands and turned to hide his face in the crook of Bruce's neck.

Taking a moment to consider his words, trying his best to be considerate of the boy's fragile state, Bruce wrapped his other arm around him. Gently stroking his back, he exhaled a soft breath and wondered what circumstances had put them where they were now. Hesitantly, he pressed a kiss to the top of Jason head, frowning lightly when he caught a whiff of tobacco smoke from his hair, though somehow, this pleased him because it confirmed that it was the same boy he had lost once. "I always think about you and what I would endure to have you back…" He started, though when his voice, much to his own surprise, was quivering and emotional, he paused to composed himself. "You weren't there, Jason. You didn't see what your loss did to me."

The room was silent and still for several seconds before a small sob cut through the air. Arms desperately encircled around Bruce's waist, hands clutching at the velveteen material of his blazer coat, Jason's body quietly shook before another sob was heard. It was happiness, but of some painful caliber that he did not comprehend. At once, he resented Talia for keeping him from Bruce for nearly three years, and had he not sought him out himself, would still be keeping him from Bruce. It shamed him, and at the same time, angered him to think that all his resentment had been wrongly placed for the past few years. It had been that woman's fault, she who had led him to believe he has been forgotten and replaced; she who led him to believe that he was as insignificant to Bruce as she was. As his tears continued uncontrollably, Jason's mind took up forgiveness for Bruce, and found a new hatred for Talia.


	5. Rude Awakening

Breaths escaping his lips heavy and tried, Jason clutched blindly at the white sheets beneath him as he attempts to muffle himself. However, the warmth of the other man's body and the hard, rapid thrusts of his hips along with the occasional groan that he allowed him drove the boy over the edge. He felt then, a burst of heat surge through his body, and his mind was a whirl. Mutual pleasure left them both limp and breathless, and as the other man collapsed beside him, he opened his mouth to speak, though his voice was soundless. The vision fades to black, and then grey, gradating into white.

Eyes opening, Jason looked around him to find himself back in the room that he was made to leave behind little more than three years ago. He surveyed the room as though worried he had been watched, and then paranoid, looked under the covers for a moment before exhaling a relieved sigh and laying back down. "You can't help what you dream about," he murmured to himself, though frowned at the object of his desire. Ignoring these sentiments, he looked to the walls to find his old posters still mounted, just as they had been last he was there. A smile slowly curled his lips, and he almost felt smug. It was true after all that Bruce had not forgotten about him, or at least had not made an effort to erase his memories. His life was preserved here like delicate remnants of shattered china desperately held together with rubber cement. There were missing pieces and the cracks showed clearly, but it formed an identifiable shape.

Then it occurred to him that he had been undressed down to his t-shirt. Looking to the chair adjacent to the bed, he found his leather jacket, but the red hoodie that had since grown to be a staple article to him was gone. He tried to recall what had come to pass and found it nearly impossible to make sense of the events. His mind was clouded with the storming emotions that had preoccupied it for nearly four years. The sudden, unexpected relief was hard for him to grasp. He could not remember how he could to Wayne Manor, and furthermore, could not recall how it was he ended up in bed. The last thing he recalled was Bruce's reluctant arm enfolding around his shoulders, the chemical smell of the bat cave, and his old custom standing like a holy relic behind the glass display case.

A soft, incredulous huff of laughter escaped his lips as he dwelled on how things turned out. It would seem that his agony was groundless. If he had only followed through with what his heart demanded, perhaps he could have saved himself from such needless sorrow. Still, it had come to rest, and while he felt he should have resent Talia for deliberately keeping him from Bruce, he was too preoccupied with reclaiming his old life, the life that was torn asunder before he could fully grasp it. He looked to the clock to figure out how long it was that he has been out, but before he could calculate, a knock sounded at the door, and looking up, he found Alfred in the door way.

"Master Jason, supper is on the way. Master Bruce had insisted that we kept your belongings are they were. You will find your clothes in the wardrobe. I do hope that they still fit you, though you seem to have grown quite a bit," Alfred pointed out with a nostalgic sigh before smiling softly at the young man. "Master Bruce will be expecting you in the dining room when you are ready," he announced before turning to leave, though before he made his final exit, he glanced over his shoulder and warmly tacked on, "and welcome home, Master Jason."

"I-it's great to be back," Jason stuttered in replied before smiling uncontrollably at the older man. When Alfred turned to leave again, he called him back and sheepishly, he murmured, "and sorry I kind lied to you…"

"No need for apologies. I could only imagine how difficult it was for you," the butler pleasant replied. "Now get dressed and wash up. Master Bruce is waiting," he reminded before making his leave.

Left alone, Jason rummaged through his wardrobe, finding all his old clothes just as they were. Settling on a red pinstriped button up shirt that still fit, Jason fussed over his hair in the mirror for nearly ten minutes before finally leaving the room and meet Bruce in the dining hall. Every step that he took felt surreal. He was afraid that any moment, he would wake up only to find himself in some remote grave, confused, alone, and scared as he was when he was abruptly brought back to life. The idea that everything had returned within his grasp could be merely the sweetest dream frightened him. In another moment, he felt his heart stop, the fear gripping him. Grasping the balustrade, he supported himself as he braced himself against the passing panic. Taking several moments to compose himself, he straightened to make his way down to the dining room.

Regardless of how long he has been away or how much he had forgotten due to his coma, Jason's feet walked on as though drawn by Bruce's presence. He navigated the corridors that had on many troubled nights been his dreamscape effortlessly. After all, there were few nights when he would dream that he did not see himself walking those very same corridors, entering those very same doorways, and crossing those very same rooms. His steps were steady though his heart raced within his chest, but he kept reminding himself, "be cool, fashionably late."

"Sorry to keep you waiting, old man," he playfully apologized as he entered the dining room through the heavy, double doors. Jason's smile faltered however when he set eyes on the boy sitting adjacent to Bruce at the table. His heart felt as though it has stopped in his chest as he recognized the boy to be the one in the pictures Talia had shone him, Tim Drake, his replacement.


	6. Mock Not His Favourite Bird

"Oh, I'm glad you're up, Jason," Bruce amiably greeted. Making a gesture to Tim, he introduced, "This is Tim, Tim Drake. He's under my care since a recent accident."

Jason glared subtly at the other boy before nonchalantly striding over to take the side adjacent to Bruce's right. "Delightful," he curtly greeted when the other boy stood and offered to shake his hand. However, after a second thought crossed his mind, he smiled pleasantly and reached for Tim's hand. Then, turning to Bruce, he grinned at him before unbuttoning two of his shirt buttons before exhaling a relieved sigh. "None of my clothes fit anymore," he casually complained, "guess I grew up some, huh, Bruce?" Winking playfully at him, he smiled when the older man rolled his eyes.

It was evident that Bruce was pleased to find Jason civil enough in front of Tim. Part of him had worried that he would have to intervene in a fight between the two boys. He wondered if Jason had known about Tim beforehand, the sudden change in his demeanour when he walked into the room suggesting so. "You did," Bruce replied before smiling and taunting, "I guess Jason Todd is finally his own man now, hm?"

Shaking his head, Jason wagged a playful finger at Bruce before speaking, "I was always my own man, but I could be your man if you wanted." The insinuation in his words uncertain, Bruce merely shrugged off the boy's comment, recalling his twisted sense of humour as a child and all the questionable things he had said then. Tim, however, looked disturbed by Jason's comment, and warily, he glanced between Bruce and the older boy, uncertain what to think. He knew vaguely of Jason, but ultimately, what he knew was that Jason was dead. How could he be here, sitting across the table from him, talking to Bruce? He watched Jason tentatively, critically. He expected the other boy to turn any moment and he was posed to defend himself in such circumstance.

"I don't think that's wise, Jason," Bruce replied, giving Jason a firm look, though his eyes shone with amusement, and Jason, seeing this, grinned in response. He was certain Tim did not know Bruce well enough to pick up these subtle details about him. He was sure that Tim was not privileged enough to be well acquainted with Bruce's secret sense of humour, and with this thought in mind, he felt superior.

"Your loss, Old Man," Jason replied, sticking his tongue out at Bruce. His attention was diverted when Alfred came with their soups however, and realizing how hungry he had been, Jason dove in without reserve. He could tell Bruce was amused by his lack of table manners, something that never quite sunk in despite the time he spent at Wayne Manor. It did not faze him however because he knew it did not bother Bruce, and instead entertained him. Of course, when with company, he always mind his etiquettes best to his abilities. Tim, he could tell, was disturbed by the way he scarfed down the French onion soup. When Bruce was distracted with his own food, he grinned at Tim, who, catching the mischief behind the older boy's smile, hurriedly adverted his gaze to his own soup.

Pleased with the knowledge that he intimidated Tim, Jason smugly leaned back in his chair after reaching for his glass of water. Taking a sip, he looked to Bruce before smiling to himself, the idea that he favoured him over Tim satisfying, regardless of the truth behind it. Then, an idea crossing his mind, he slyly asked, "so Bruce, gone on any dates without me lately?"

The question posed caught Tim's attention, mostly because the diction was strange, and he knew not what Jason was talking about. Looking to Bruce, he did not try to hide his curiosity as he anticipated him to respond. Bruce, taking an exasperated sigh, chuckled and shook his head at Jason. "I hardly think anyone else would consider those dates beside you, Jay. But if you're asking if I've gone on patrol with anyone, that answer is yes. Tim's serving as Robin presently."

Wincing when he heard the claim directly from Bruce's lips, Jason broodingly picked at his salad before scoffing. "They wouldn't consider them dates because they aren't the same. They're only ever dates if it's between you and me, Bruce. I sure little Timmy here doesn't get rewarded with chilidogs after a night's run," Jason vindictively commented before nonchalantly picking a crouton between his thumb and forefinger and tossing it into the air, caught it in his mouth.

"That was good," Tim commented sarcastically. "Does he bark and play fetch too?"

Both Jason and Bruce shot the boy a glare when he uttered this passive aggressive comment, though before Jason could defend himself, Bruce spoke. "Tim, that was rude. Jason is your predecessor, just as Dick. You need to show them equal respect," he chided, a gesture that made Jason smug with the idea that Bruce thought so highly of him.

Averting his eyes, Tim murmured a half-hearted apology under his breath. Then, feeling the tension in the room, he finally stood and asked to be excused. When Bruce allowed it, he took his leave, shooting Jason a passing glare as he walked away from the table. Alone with Bruce, Jason exhaled a relieved sigh before grinning at Bruce. "I thought he'd never leave," he joked, a comment which actually got the older man to smile. "So, are you going blubber and tell me how much you missed me now?" he asked, half wishing that Bruce would succumb to such openly emotional displays of affection. Before Bruce could respond however, Jason grew more somber before posing another question. "Bruce…did you have to replace me so quickly?"

Bruce had anticipated this question since the day he took Tim Drake under his wing. How long was long enough when it came to mourning? Was it wise to put another youth's life on the line? Better yet, could he truly save anyone? Exhaling a soft sigh, Bruce gave Jason a sad glance before shaking his head. "It was not my intention to replace you, Jason. I would have gone without another Robin had Tim's parents not die. He….insisted."

"I rarely ever got what I insisted on," Jason reminded before pouting. Glancing away from Bruce, he silently fumed before quietly asking, "well, did you at least enjoy going on patrols with me more?"

Amused by Jason's childlike jealousy, Bruce hid a smile. "Patrols? You and I never went on patrols, Jay," he firmly replied, a response that drew up a certain sadness in the boy's green eyes. "They were dates, remember?"

A smile gradually spread across Jason's chiseled lips before he pointed, "aha! So they were!" He could tell Bruce was making an effort to cheer him up, and because he knew Bruce's personality all too well, he knew that the Batman did not show this side of him to just anyone. The thought made him feel special, and more a moment, he found his jealousy unwarranted because part of him knew that he had been irreplaceable to Bruce. Blushing subtly at this idea, Jason shyly poked at his salad before glancing up at Bruce once more, tongue-tied and overwhelmed by his own sentiments. He dropped his gaze to the salad once more, stabbing the cherry tomato with his fork several times. "I'm just glad you never go on dates with anyone else…" Jason murmured.


End file.
